


Emotions

by cw151



Series: Clawen Week 2015 [6]
Category: Jurassic Park (Movies), Jurassic World (2015)
Genre: Backstory, Clawen, Clawen Week, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-14 17:04:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4572618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cw151/pseuds/cw151
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Day 6 of Clawen Week: Emotions. <br/>It's been a long time since Claire had someone who cared.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Emotions

**Author's Note:**

> Day 6 of Clawen week a little early! :)
> 
> Hurt/comfort and fluff. As usual. :P

 

To an outsider, Claire didn’t look like a very emotional person. Her professional demeanor and calm collectedness made most people think that she had no feelings at all, that all she cared about were numbers and spreadsheets and graphs. They called her an “Ice Queen” and probably didn’t event think that such a name might truly hurt her.

 

Which it did. As much as she hated to admit it, it still stung when she heard others call her names, despite the fact that she’d been called names her entire life.

 

In primary school, it’d been “red witch” after Daisy, one of the popular girls, had watched a movie in which a red-haired witch was the bad-guy. In Daisy’s eyes, Claire was the bad guy – or girl – from the start, for the sole reason that she didn’t blindly follow Daisy and resisted her commands both in the schoolyard and on the playground.

 

Later on, in high school, the popular girls didn’t very much care for Claire anymore. The popular girls were athletes like cheerleaders, while Claire spent her afternoons at debate club and at the Junior United Nations. She read a lot, and had countless causes she’d relentlessly campaign for – healthier lunch options, redistribution of school funding for clubs and activities, fairer grading systems, and, of course, equal rights, especially for women.

 

As a result, the “red witch” became the “bossy feminazi”, and while the new label was neither mature nor imaginative, it was all the more hurtful as it was primarily hurled at her from boys. Just like any other teenage girl, Claire really wanted someone to love and to be loved, and it pained her to no end that none of the boys in her school understood why her causes were so important to her. Despite all the hurt and frustration, though, she also knew that she wouldn’t ever change or forego her values and her opinions for someone else.

 

All through this time, Claire had worn her heart on her sleeve and openly displayed how she was feeling, no matter if her emotions were good or bad. While some people had made fun of it before, she didn’t see the point in hiding how she was feeling – until her freshman year high school prom.

 

Leading up to the prom, she all of a sudden had several suitors who tried to get her attention. It was an entirely new experience for her – they waited outside school to walk her home, asked if they could sit next to her during lunch, and even discussed the quality of the cafeteria food and women’s rights with her. It was all very flattering and also extremely unusual, and at first, Claire hadn’t known how to handle it, especially when they all asked her to accompany her to prom, one after the other. Claire ignored the warning bells that went off inside her head at these odd declarations of interest, convincing herself that it was all just because they’d finally understood her.

 

Needless to say, she should have heeded the warning bells. After some deliberation, she’d decided to accept Jeremy’s invitation for prom. He was captain of the swim team, extremely cool and laid back, and one of the most sought-after boys in school. The two of them had been talking about the lack of abortion access for women in the US an entire lunch period, and everything Jeremy said or did made Claire think that he just _got_ her.

 

Until the moment she’d helped herself to some more punch at the buffet table, dressed in a beautiful, emerald-green gown, when she overheard Jeremy talk to Kevin, captain of the football team, behind a column next to her.

“Just because she’s here with you doesn’t mean you’re the one who’s gonna get lucky tonight,” Kevin had said. “Just watch, I’m gonna turn on _my_ charms, and then we’ll see who’s gonna get that frigid bitch laid.”

Claire froze, the silver ladle still in her hand.

“Yeah, you wish,” she heard Jeremy reply. “The only one scoring tonight’s gonna be me, and then it’s time for you to pay up!”

Claire felt as if someone had punched the air out of her. So this was what all that attention of the last few weeks was about – a bet to get her into bed. She mechanically put down the ladle and firmly grasped the cup she was holding with both of her hands. Tears shot to her eyes, and her insides seemed to convulse. She needed to get out immediately.

 

Unfortunately – or, in hindsight, maybe fortunately – she ran straight into Jeremy at the edge of the dance floor.

 

“Hey honey, I’ve been looking all over for you,” he said as he ran his hands down her arms.

“Don’t touch me,” Claire hissed and took a quick step back as if he’d burnt her.

“What? Why? What’s going on? You angry with me?” Jeremy asked in feigned concern.

“Save your act,” Claire shot back, her voice breaking. “I know all about your bet.” The tears started dropping from her eyes now, and for a second, Jeremy looked genuinely taken aback. When he noticed the people gathering around them, however, he immediately recovered.

“Yeah, sorry about that. But come on, you must have known that there was something going on. Seriously, why would anyone listen to you blab on for hours about that stupid feminism stuff? Do you honestly think a bossy feminazi turns any guy on?” Jeremy sneered. The people around them were beginning to laugh.

“Check it out, the feminazi is crying,” she heard someone say on her left.

Claire was still clutching on to the cup in her hand, her knuckles white. She had no idea what to say or do. It seemed that the people around her had even turned down the music to listen to what was going on.

“Look, I get that you’re angry now. But why do you have to be so extreme all the time? Just be normal! You’re actually kind of pretty if you dress up, you don’t need to go on about women’s rights all the time,” Jeremy continued, basking in the undivided attention of everyone around them. At his words, Claire suddenly knew what to do next. Her eyes narrowed, and she stood up straight.  

 

“Actually, this moment right here is _exactly_ why I need to go on about women’s rights all the time you freakin’ asshole!” she replied in a calm, icy voice she’d never used before, but that seemed to roll off her tongue very easily. “Do you feel good now that you’ve given me completely useless shit? Yeah? Great. Because that’s the only way you’ll ever feel good if your little dick doesn’t start growing soon.” She turned to some girls on her right. “I’m serious, I’ve seen it, it’s tiny. No fun to be had there.”

She hadn’t actually seen Jeremy anywhere near naked before, but the people around her apparently didn’t question her statement and only looked at Jeremy sardonically while whispering in each other’s ears.

 

Claire turned back to Jeremy, who’d become red like a tomato, his face twisted in rage. She put on a perfectly fake, unreadable smile and moved closer to him to whisper into his ear.

“Bye!”

It took Jeremy a second before he felt the ice-cold liquid running down the front of his pants.

“You fucking bitch!” he shouted lividly, but Claire was already strutting towards the exit and only waved at him without even turning around.

 

After that incident, Claire had learnt to compartmentalize her emotions. She taught herself to control them, to keep them boxed up until she was by herself where she could go through them all by herself. As it turned out, controlling her emotions was an incredibly useful skill to have, and it helped her immensely in climbing the ranks of Masrani Corp. It also made her incredibly successful at poker, which wasn’t bad either.

 

She had a system that worked. If she encountered any strong emotions during her day at work, she’d mentally put it into a little box, and when she got home that night, she’d open that box again, and then her tears of anger, frustration or disappointment would flow, she’d jab at her punching bag, or she’d dance about the room celebrating.

 

After the incident with the Indominus, keeping her system became increasingly difficult, however. Not only was she now facing heavy flashbacks and panic attacks that left her unable to keep her emotions in check and reduced her to a quivering mess, but she also spent increasing amounts of time with Owen.

 

Her system was made for living on her own. Now that she was sharing most evenings with her boyfriend, she struggled to find moments in which she could open the little boxes that she created in her head throughout the day. While she didn’t mind living out the good emotions like happiness with him around, she couldn’t bring herself to show him the bad ones, too, for fear that he’d think she was weak or needy.

 

As a result, she’d tried to find private moments to let her feelings out, whether it was in the car to his bungalow or the bathroom while taking a shower. It was difficult, however, as she usually got home from work after him.

 

One night, she and Owen arrived at his bungalow at the same time, and he immediately asked her if he could shower first, as he was covered in mud. Claire just nodded, trying to keep that little box in her mind tightly shut. To take her mind off her much-needed emotional release, she busied herself in the kitchen getting dinner ready. Just as she’d put two saucepans on the stove and turned up the heat to boil the water for their pasta, however, the lid of the little box in her mind flew off with a huge burst. Her eyes filled with tears and her insides ached as she stumbled back towards the kitchen counter behind her. Claire threw one hand over her eyes and wrapped the other tightly around her side where she pinched her own waist in a desperate attempt to get her emotions under control again. It didn’t work. As a result, she bit down so hard on her lower lip that she thought she’d bleed at any second, and urged every ounce of her body to get her breathing in check again. But it was too late.

 

“Claire? What’s wrong?”

Claire nearly jumped when she felt Owen’s hand caress her arm. She swallowed and set her jaw.

“N-nothing,” she pressed out through grinded teeth. “I’m just gonna take a shower.”

She tried to push past him but Owen caught her in his arms.

“Hey, look at me. What’s wrong?” he asked in a soothing voice, his face riddled with concern.   
Claire was mortified that he saw her like this and she refused to meet his eye.

“It’s ok, it was just – stupid, that’s all. I should really go shower,” she replied, willing her voice to stop shaking.

Owen gently tugged at the hand that she was still holding in front of her face and pulled her into a tight hug.

It was as if the simple gesture broke a dam inside Claire. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had held her as she cried, and it almost felt as if her body had only waited for a moment like this. Sobs wracked her body and there was no more stopping her tears. She draped her arms around Owen and held on to him with all her might. He just kept her close, tenderly stroking her back and pressing soft kisses to her temples and hair. Neither of them said a word, and the only thing that could be heard in the kitchen were the bubbling of the boiling water behind them and the uneven sobs and sniffles coming from Claire.

 

After a few minutes, her sobs stopped and turned into heavy pants while her tears still kept on coming. Owen pressed another kiss to the top of her head.

“Come on, let’s sit down,” he said quietly.

Claire let him maneuver her to the sofa in the living room. As they settled down, Owen offered her a piece of kitchen tissue that he’d apparently grabbed on the way. Claire accepted it gratefully, and a few seconds later, she was nestled into him on the couch, her legs thrown across his lap, and her head resting on his shoulder. Owen continued to caress her back and nuzzled her forehead and temple. Gradually, Claire’s tears began to ebb, and her breathing slowed. Her entire body felt exhausted.

“What happened?” Owen whispered after a while as his fingers drew circles on her back.

“It’s stupid,” Claire repeated. “There was this guy at work today who’d managed to get into our building. He barged into the control room and shouted at me. He said it was my fault that so many people died during the Indominus’ breakout and that he wished that she’d eaten me, too. He lost his wife that day during the Pterosaur attack. And then he shouted at the others how they could let me stand there knowing that it was me who killed all these people. As if I didn’t know that.” She felt a fresh round of tears coming up.

“And what did the others say?” Owen asked calmly, pushing a strand of hair from her face.

“Nothing. Except for Lowry, who told the guy that he had no idea how that day went down and that we were all busting our butts to keep the guests save. He even mentioned the T-Rex. Fortunately, security got the guy out after that,” Claire said and pressed her lips together.

“I know that this is all my fault,” she said closing her eyes as she felt a fresh round of tears coming on. “And I wish for nothing more than to be able to go back and undo what happened. But I can’t, and the only thing I can do now is to try to even remotely make-up for everything.”

Owen frowned and placed a finger under her chin to make her look at him.

“This is not your fault,” he said sternly. “You did everything correctly. Yes, you could have asked what the Indominus was exactly, but that’s all you could have done. It was Dr. Wu’s job to make sure that the dinosaurs they cooked up wouldn’t hurt anyone and that you’d have the information you needed to make sure the enclosures were safe. And once that thing got out, you were the first one to call for the guests to be brought in. I read the reports. Masrani was the one who stopped you, and he was also the one who wanted to fly that damn helicopter without a license! You did everything you could and more, and no-one can hold that against you,” he finished, looking at her intently.

Claire bit her lower lip again and rested her head back on to his shoulder. This wasn’t the first time they had this conversation, but her guilt still remained.

 

“Promise me something?” Owen suddenly asked. Claire wiped her eyes with the tissue and looked at him a bit surprised.

“What?” she asked, her voice still shaking.

Owen stroked her cheek with his index finger.

“Promise me that you won’t hide your feelings from me anymore?” he asked almost pleadingly. Claire frowned. Had he known all this time?

“If you need time for yourself, that’s absolutely fine, but please don’t cry in the bathroom or in the car and tell me that you’re ok afterwards when you aren’t. I’ll give you all the space you need, just don’t shut me out,” he asked earnestly, his blue eyes fixed on hers.

Claire swallowed and averted her eyes.

“Sorry,” she murmured. “I just – it’s been a while since I had someone who cared,” she confessed.

A smile tugged at Owen’s lips.

“Well now you do. And you can use me anytime. In any way, for whatever … need you have.” He wriggled his eyebrows at the last part, and Claire tried to bite back the smile that was building on her face as she rolled her eyes. Then she got serious again.

“Thank you,” she said softly as she turned to look at him once again.

Owen pulled her close and pressed a lingering kiss on to her lips.

“Anytime,” he replied.

 

 

 


End file.
